


Chunky Chunky Air Guitar: Electric Boogaloo

by skund



Category: DCU - Comicverse, Marvel 616, Torchwood
Genre: Crack, F/F, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-01
Updated: 2010-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-11 09:55:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skund/pseuds/skund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce has to deal with the ramifications of a failed space mission. Or rather, not deal. 'Cause this is Bruce we're talking about, after all...</p><p>DC pre-'Battle for the Cowl'/Marvel generalverse/Torchwood Season 2, post-'Reset' pre-'Something Borrowed'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chunky Chunky Air Guitar: Electric Boogaloo

_  
Two days later…_

Bruce paused in his evening paperwork, placing his fountain pen down on the desk and studying the dimly lit room. Nothing disturbed the sanctuary of his study but something was… off. Suspect. He narrowed his eyes and pushed his chair back from the desk.

Silence.

He concentrated hard, using every sense he had. He felt the figure move on top of highest bookshelf half a second before the light revealed a lithe red and black form.

“What are you doing here?" Bruce demanded, setting his shoulders.

Deadpool just shrugged gracefully, katanas catching the light. “Daddy needs a new rocket launcher and they don’t come cheap you know.”

“Get out!”

“Now, see, I’d love to. Really, I would. But I’ve kinda got this thing to do. So if you’ll just stand still,” Deadpool twirled one of this katanas menacingly, “I’ll finish up and be home in time for Idol.”

Bruce tensed, ready for combat. The mercenary had the advantage of height and weapons for which Bruce was glad. It almost made this an even fight. He stepped backward as Deadpool launched himself from the top of the bookcase, swinging his katanas. Bruce ducked and rolled under the blades, slipping behind a chair. Deadpool was fast and only a second behind. Bruce flipped onto his back and kicked the heavily padded chair at his assailant. It caught him squarely on his knees and he stumbled, his head colliding with the solid mahogany chair top. Bruce used the precious seconds the man was stunned to reach the other side of the room and activate the secret door to the Cave. He slipped silently down the stairs, not waiting for the motion-sensing lights to activate. By the time Deadpool had reached the base of the stairs Bruce had made it to the armoury to grab a cowl and utility belt. The cave was still dark as the mercenary sprinted across the floor towards him – he never saw the barrage of batarangs coming. None the less he dodged most of them, stopping momentarily to pull some of the metal from his chest.

“Ow, fuck-ow! What the…”

Deadpool leaped over the bolas Bruce hurled at him, wounds already closing, but wasn’t so lucky with the stun pellets. In the momentary confusion Bruce swept forward to duck under the blades and crash tackle his opponent to the ground. They struggled briefly until Bruce smashed Deadpool’s fist bloody on the hard floor, making him release his katana. He grabbed it and rolled away to safety. Deadpool was on his feet within moments and the two men circled each other warily, the flickering of the lights slowly coming on glinting off their blades. Deadpool lunged into an attack which Bruce parried and dodged fluidly. Bruce’s own attack ended the same way. The circled again, swords shifting as they prepared for moves the other was already countering for. Then circled again.

“Boring!” Deadpool yelled, dropping his free hand and in one smooth motion drawing his gun, aiming and pulling the trigger. Bruce dropped smoothly to the ground, at the same time drawing his grapple gun from the belt. He fired it directly at Deadpool’s undefended chest. The hook smashed through his ribcage with a spray of red. Bruce used the tensile rope to pull the mercenary down to the ground where he collapsed with a sickening splutter. Bruce used the down time quickly, yanking out the hook with a wet sucking sound and wrapping Deadpool up in the Teflon coated cord, fastening it tightly. He had just secured the swords and firearm safely away when Deadpool recovered, coughing violently and rolling onto his side. For the first time he took in Bruce, standing close by, and the now lit cave stretching out behind him and the white lenses of the merc’s mask went wide.

“Holy shit!”

“Why are you here?” Bruce demanded.

“You’re the goddamn Batman!”

“Answer me.”

“Dude! That is so awesome.”

“Just answer the-“

“Y’know you’re totally badass.”

“Shut up.”

“And I got totally gypped here, no way I’m getting paid enough to gank the goddamn Batman.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed threateningly.

“Not that I’m gonna! Not now. Well, obviously, because I’m tied up. But I wouldn’t anyway. You’re like my hero, man. All Fear the Night‘n’stuff. That’s awesome.”

“What are you doing here, Wilson?”

“I’m here to kill ya. What, weren’t you listening? I thought you were some master detective?”

Bruce rubbed his forehead with one hand; he felt a headache coming on.

“Hey, this is like your secret base isn’t it? Is your car here? Can I see it? Man, chicks dig the car.”

Bruce resisted the urge to close his eyes. He’d studied Deadpool’s activities and knew exactly how dangerous the madman could be despite is rambling. And occasionally because of it. With a sigh he tapped the JLA transceiver in his ear.

“Superman, can you meet me in the cave?” He paused, listening. “Now. Yes. Now, S.”  
He cut the communication with a quick tap.

“Aww, is that any way to treat your boyfriend?”

Bruce ignored the bound figure on the floor.

“Y’know, if my boyfriend was that frigid-“

“Who sent you?”

“-I wouldn’t put-“

“Who _sent_ you?”

“What? Oh, some crazy bitches, I dunno.”

“Who!”

“These chicks! Internet chicks! And not, like, the hot naked ones. These gals called ‘emselves [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/fanficrants/profile)[**fanficrants**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/fanficrants/) or something. Said you were an offense to good taste and decency, what with your bun in the oven. Offered two mill for me to ice you.”

Bruce frowned, scruitinising the information. “Who are these people, and how did they know…”

“These babes threw in an extra hundred K for me to take out people who can’t tell the difference between they’re, their and… thear. No wait, there. There and thear and… uh. To kill some more peeps who can’t write good. Oh, and people who post fics without sufficiently artistic userpics or something.”

“That makes no sense at all. What are you rambling about?”

“Fucked if I know! Look, do these sound like the demands of sane people?”

Bruce was starting to feel that he was the only sane person he knew, and that was a disturbing thought. He was assembling the next line of questions in his head when he heard a familiar gust of air.

“Bruce, if you’ve dragged me down here just to yell at me again… Oh. What’s going on?”

Bruce turned slightly to face Clark as he approached, keeping Deadpool in the corner of his eye.

“This is Wade Wilson – Deadpool – an assassin hired to kill me.”

“What?! Are you okay?” Clark landed gently and hurried over to Bruce, who pushed his  
away.

“Fine, fine. But I need you to watch him for me.”

“Why? Where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” Bruce replied, exasperated, “but I need to find out exactly who sent him and I can’t do that while I’m standing here watching him.” With that he turned and stalked over to the computer, initiating search algorithms and surveillance scans.

“Oh, so you need me for something now?” Clark snapped at Bruce coolly.

Bruce turned and watched him quietly for a heartbeat, eyes unreadable. “I always need you, Clark.”

Clark blinked, eyes going wide with surprise. “I, … er.”

“Aww, he’s so sweet! Like a puppy! Little psychotic bat puppy thing.”

Clark took a deep breath and crossed his arms as he stood over the man on the floor. He eyed the pools of blood with some concern. Deadpool noticed his attention and squirmed against the confining ropes.

“How’s about lettin’ me up?”

“How about not?” Clark replied coldly.

Deadpool sighed melodramatically and dropped his head loudly against the floor.

“So you’re the baby daddy, huh?”

Clark ignored him.

“Gotta tell ya you picked on hell of a sugar daddy, Supes.”

Silence.

“Isn’t he meant to be a bit of a slut?”

“Be quiet, Wade.” Clark snapped, the grinding of his teeth almost audible. He glanced over his shoulder, checking on Bruce working at the computer console.

“He’s kinda cranky too.” Deadpool added.

Nothing.

“Or is that all because of his ‘delicate condition’?”

Clark sighed.

"I wonder why they call it that - delicate condition. It's not like knocked up chicks are gonna explode and shoot their kid across the room. Like a chestburster or something. Heh, that'd be cool though. I'd so do that. The baby shooting, that is. I'm not into the whole alien having sex with my face thing.” Deadpool raised his head and pitched his voice so Bruce couldn’t help but hear. “But I guess you are, right? Been there, done that, got the pearl necklace?"

“Okay, that’s enough!” Clark yelled, reaching down to grab the mercenary by the front of his ruined tunic.

"What? Aliens! It's a legitimate reference. Not like Spiderman cracking that Rainbow Brite gag in Marvel Adventures Avengers #8. Like anyone in the MA target audience would know who that is."

“Yes, enough.” Bruce said as he rose from the computer and strode over. “I have what I need. Clark, take him to Xavier’s mansion. The X-Men will deal with him.”

“Ya think? I’m like their leader! Okay, well not their leader but I’m totally an X-“

“Get him out of here!” Bruce barked.

“Okay, okay! Sheesh, you guys are dicks.” Deadpool muttered. Clark, still holding him by his tunic, picked him up and dumped him over his shoulder.

“Wait, wait, wait. One question, before I go flying Alien Airways.”

Bruce eyed him critically, but nodded slightly in agreement.

“This whole man baby thing. You’re still a guy, right? So how does the baby, y’know, get out?”

The Bat quirked an eyebrow and his mouth twisted distastefully. Clark sighed and adjusted the weight of the mercenary on his shoulder. “We’re working on it.”

“Right.” Bruce added. “Goodbye, Wilson.” He turned on his heel and walked towards the door to the manor. Clark slowly rose into the air, leaving the cave via one of the many concealed roof exits. If Bruce was the sentimental type he would’ve sworn the Cave itself heaved a sigh of relief at the sudden quiet. But he wasn’t, and such a notion would be foolish.

\---

_Three days later…_

“Look, I’m fine.”

“The hell you are, Bruce. We can handle this if you’d just let us.” Nightwing countered.

Bruce snorted, readjusting his gauntlets. Dick stood steadfast, hands on hips. Tim, in uniform, was over by the computer and appeared to be trying not to laugh.

“I don’t need your help.”

“No, but that doesn’t mean you can’t take it when it’s offered.”

Bruce resolutely finished buckling his Kevlar chestplate on. If it was a little snug around the middle than usual he didn’t let on. Dick was still watching him critically.

“Well if you’re done being a mother hen I do actually have work to do.”

“Hey, woah!” Tim interrupted, eyes glued to the computer screen. He had Bruce and Dick’s instant attention. “There’s a signal coming through, broad band, on all frequencies. It’s-“

The signal cut through, squealing out of the computer's speakers. It was a piercing, throbbing wail which stabbed right into the brain. Bruce and Dick fell to their knees, clutching their ears. Tim had one hand holding his head, the other frantically working the control panel trying to cancel the sound. The noise droned on, the pain it drove making it feel like eternity. Then without warning the noise disappeared as fast as it arrived, leaving everyone’s head ringing.

“What the hell!” Dick yelled too loud, slowly climbing to his feet. Tim was still manipulating the computer controls.

“It wasn’t me, it ended on its own.”

“What was it?”

“No idea, but it was strong. Reports coming in from all over the globe. And the Watchtower.” Tim reported.

“Right, we need to figure this out. Contact the Titans, see if they have any leads. I’ll call the Avengers. Bruce, could you go to the Watchtower, see what they’ve got?” Dick glanced back over his shoulder to see Bruce lying still on the floor and writing in pain.

“Bruce!” He raced over to his adopted father and gently laid a hand on his tembling shoulder.

“He’s conscious, but not by much. Jesus…”

Tim was already contacting the Watchtower for medical assistance. Bruce regained consciousness ten seconds later, and started screaming immediately.

\---

It only took Clark twenty minutes to finish evacuating the blazing hotel in Paris and make it to the cave but by the time he had Bruce was in serious trouble. Dick and Tim had managed to remove most of his armour and thankfully the pain had rendered him unconscious. His stomach was huge and greatly distended; pale, sweaty skin stark against the dim medical recess of the cave. Alfred was tending Bruce, using a cool cloth to calm him. Dick was standing nearby, looking almost as pale as his father.

“Oh my God.” Clark breathed, rushing forward to grab his lover’s hand. “I came as soon as… It was that sound, wasn’t it?”

Dick nodded silently.

“Diana and Shayera reacted the same way. Luckily they were on the Watchtower when it happened. J’onn and everyone kinda have their hands full looking after them.”

“So what about Master Bruce?” Alfred asked worriedly.

Clark looked distraught. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to help him…”

“We do.” Tim called from the computer banks. Behind him Barbara’s face, grainy over webcam video connection, filled the screen.

“We’ve been working on it.” She explained, “And I think we’ve found a way. These guys are more than top secret, and there’s no guarantee they’ll help. But it’s all I could find.”

“Tell me.” Clark commanded.

Barbara nodded. “Sending the data now. Good luck.” She added with sincerity.  
Tim scanned over the data spooling across the screen. “We’ll need the Javelin. We’re going to Cardiff.”

Ten minutes later Clark was carrying a still unconscious Bruce aboard the Javelin, followed by a pale looking Dick. Clark took a seat, cradling Bruce in his lap. “How long?”

“Two hours.” Dick replied, already working the controls. The Javelin rose smoothly into the air and sped silently across the planet.

Less than half an hour out of Wales Bruce awoke. He blinked groggily up at Clark and tried to rise. “Wha-“ He stopped, staring aghast as his bulging stomach.

Clark ran his fingers through Bruce’s sweat damp hair. ”Shh, it’s okay. We’re going to get help, Bruce. Just relax.”

Bruce's head dropped against Clark’s arm, clearly exhausted. His face looked horribly drained and sickly. His lover kept talking to him softly as the Javelin approached the city, Bruce fading in and out of consciousness.

The Javelin touched down in a large, open paved square, abandoned in the early hours of the morning. Dick quickly engaged the cloaking on the aircraft before they all disembarked into the chilly night air. Bruce started shivering almost instantly.

“This is it?” Clark asked skeptically.

Dick nodded. “These are the co-ordinates Babs sent.”

Clark studied the tall, glassy building before them, and then followed Dick as he headed off towards a not so obvious entry. Inside the doors was a simplistic reception area, well lived in but currently abandoned. Clark scanned the walls, eyebrows raising as he spied the extensive underground chamber a few floors below.

“That way.” He headed towards an innocuous looking wall, which crumbled under his fist to reveal a passageway.

They hurried quickly down, Dick drawing his Escrima sticks as they approached a source of light and voices. Dick slipped silently into the room as Clark hung back in the shadows with Bruce in his arms. The room's scattered occupants didn’t seem to notice the sudden appearance of a black clad vigilante in their midst. For a while, at least.

“Holy shit!” A man yelled, diving into a nearby drawer to pull out a gun, aiming it squarely at Dick’s chest. Dick slowly raised is his hands, fingers spread.

“Easy now,” Dick said, “we’re not here to hurt anyone. We need your help.”

“Bollocks you are, you just broke in here!”

Another man rushed down from a concealed office, his long, woolen great coat swaying. He pointed a strange looking weapon at Dick. In the background a young Asian woman cowered behind her computer screens.

“Please.” Dick aid, slowly lowering his hands.

“Uh uh uh, not so fast. Who are you?” asked the man in the coat.

“Nightwing.” Dick replied.

“Right. And what made you think, ‘Nightwing’, that you could just break in here and make demands?” the trench coat man snarked.

“Oh, in the name of…” Clark sighed, stepping through into the room. “We don’t have time for this!”

Bruce blinked blearily at the sudden light, eyes sweeping across the assembled group. “Hi Jack.” he said hoarsely, panting heavily. Sweat was pouring down his face, which was obviously twisted in pain.

Jack stared at Bruce and his swollen stomach, stunned into silence. Then his gaping jaw slowly turning into a huge grin. He had a breathtaking smile; all straight, white teeth and sparkling eyes. Clark watched this beautiful stranger grinning with his too blue eyes at Bruce and decided on the spot that he didn’t like him in the slightest.

“Er, that can’t be normal.” The man with the gun jumped in, also eyeing Bruce.

Dick winced. “No, it’s… a long story.”

Jack chuckled. “I’ll bet. And I totally want to hear it one day. But right now. Tosh, get the med area ready. Owen, I think we’re going to need the singularity scalpel.”

Owen, with the gun, rolled his eyes. “Great.”

Jack flashed another grin at Bruce, fading slowly in Clark’s arms. “Don’t worry, he;s an old friend and in good hands here.” He stepped forward and gently took hold of Bruce. Clark resisted slightly before letting Bruce get pulled away. He glanced over a Dick, who just shrugged his shoulders. Both men followed Jack through the warren-like base and down into a tiled medical bay. Bruce gasped as he was laid out on the cold steel table, the thin cotton shirt and trousers Alfred had dressed him in offering little protection.

Owen soon appeared carrying a large, ominous looking device.

Clark eyed it with some concern. “What is that?”

“A roulette wheel.” Owen replied, glaring. “Something that, probably, won’t kill your friend. Maybe.”

“No! You can’t kill-“

“It’s fine.” Jack interrupted, waving a hand calmly. “He’ll be fine. It's an alien device that can remove one object from another without harming the latter. Perfectly safe.”

“Right, tell that to the last guy who exploded.” Owen muttered. “Right, Tosh, monitor his vitals.” he ordered. The young woman had been connecting Bruce to various monitors and devices and was now keeping a close eye on the readings.

Owen fiddled with the device in his hands briefly, then rolled his shoulders. “Well, here goes.” The machine emitted a high pitched whine as Owen pointed it a Bruce’s stomach.

“You know what,” Dick said from his position just behind Clark, “I can’t watch this.” He deftly swung up the railing surrounding the med area and disappeared into the main room.

The tension in the room was high as Owen grimaced. The whine from the device rose in pitch and suddenly there was… silence. Nothing. Clark didn’t even realise he’d shut his eyes.

“Oh my God.”

“Bloody hell.”

“That’s not…”

Clark opened them to see a warm, wet tiny body lying on Bruce’s stomach. Every other pair of eyes in the room was glued to the sight in shock. It was a squid. A tiny, tentacled and slightly gelatinous squid. The creature, sitting on the mercifully once-more unconscious Bruce, gibbered at them and flailed its little tentacles. Then flopped off the bed onto the floor and promptly vanished in a singular blue point of light. No one in the room moved for at least a minute. Owen was the first one to break the silence.

“Well fuck me.”

Jack laughed, breaking out his stupid, beautiful grin again. “Well, you don’t see that every day!”

Clark wondered if Bruce’s therapist offered package deals.

\---

“Yeah, it was a squid!” Wally said excitedly, almost visibly vibrating even over the video linkup to the Watchtower. “After all that screaming and stomach clenching it just leapt out of Diana's head! And it had an itty bitty spear and a hat”.

Dick, lounging at the computer and feet up on the controls, almost choked on his cup of coffee. “And Hawkgirl’s had wings?”

“Yeah, man you shoulda been here.”

Dick winced. “Nah, I’ll pass.”

Wally grinned. “So, what do you think was the point of all this?”

“I have no damn idea…”


End file.
